Me Against the Music

Posted on April 30, 2014September 9, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Chances are, you already saw Round Three of Alison Tyler’s Smut Marathon. (If you didn’t, get on over there right now and VOTE!) This one was quite interesting for me—Alison Tyler asked us to write a short piece inspired by whatever song we wanted. Sounds so easy, right?

Um…nope.

See, I love music—but apparently I’m very particular about when I listen to it. The problem is that I’m a singer and a dancer, so I am virtually incapable of listening to music without joining in or bopping around in one way or another. To be clear, I sing all the time in my house, and my neighbors can probably tell you how annoying this is since I love practicing for Karaoke Night in the shower—even when it’s not Karaoke Night. Hell, even if it’s five in the morning. Whatever. I’m singing and dancing in the shower, the living room, the kitchen…

This limits most of my music consumption to two occasions: while I’m driving in my car, and while I’m working out (no, I don’t sing there). Sometimes, I listen when I clean, but often I forget to turn it on and am done before I think of it.

So here Alison Tyler rolls around and asks us to use a song for inspiration. For some reason, I translated this into attempting to listen to music while writing. FAIL. Every time I played the song and broke to write, I kept singing the lyrics—and did you know, it’s quite hard to write what’s in your head when you’re singing along to what someone else wrote from inside her head? Yeah. Impossible. Or at least, it was for me.

I’m sure I’m not alone in this, but my impression is that many writers are inspired by music and use it to motivate them to write. I think that’s amazing, because it distracts the hell out of me. I can listen to it well in advance and maybe get a feeling or two, but the tune that works best when I’m writing is the sound of my fingers flying over the keyboard and the story blaring itself through my head.

Fine, fine. Other authors don’t use music. Phew. I’m not alone…

But wait.

It occurs to me this problem of mine extends beyond writing—I prefer not to have sex to music, either. No, really. It’s that bad. I won’t stop mid-encounter and say, “Wait! Stop! We must turn off the music!” or anything, but I prefer these things on their own. When it comes to sex, I love every little sound—the catch of a breath, the roll of a budding moan, the smack of skin on skin, and even the gentle brush of a caress. All of that is incredibly sexy to me. And when it comes to music, I’m so overjoyed to hear said clever artist syncing this lyric with that bridge or wickedly intriguing tone that I can’t fully acclimate. In truth, there is some poor bloke out there who can tell you about an 18-year-old me more interested in cooing over Fiona Apple’s Tidal album than our make out session (all right, this might have had more to do with my mediocre enthusiasm about the encounter, but still, I feel for the guy).

Now, I have a friend who is obsessed with music, and he informs me this problem only happens because my “partner isn’t doing it right,” otherwise I’d “connect with the music and the man.” Huh. An interesting theory. Ironically, this friend and I briefly dated years ago, and while we never had sex, he did effectively seduce me in a slow dance to some seriously sexy songs…so okay, maybe he’s right.

Or, maybe I’m just a weirdo. I don’t know. Music and me: it’s a strange relationship. I’m not saying these things never happen simultaneously, but on the whole, I guess I like to savor my activities separately.

Now I’m curious—does anyone else have a problem pairing music with [fill in your chosen activity]? I’d love to know. Please share…or just tell me I’m crazy.

Either way, please don’t forget to vote. I worked hard on this round! 😉

XX,
Jade

Finished Edits, Good Friends, and Delicious News!

Posted on April 23, 2014September 9, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Well, the craziest thing happened on Friday: I finished editing my book.

I wish I could tell you it was that simple, but it wasn’t. It was more like this:

Image from The Gif Garden on Tumblr

Weird, right?

To be completely honest, I didn’t feel finished. I’ve refined this editing process that some might call garden-variety OCD, but it works for me with short stories. Naturally, I thought I’d apply the method to a whole damn book. I mean, I outlined and wrote the thing in less than six weeks, so eight weeks of hardcore editing sounded completely reasonable.

The problem was that along the way, a few other life things had me at my stress max. Like, for example, a breakup. Oh and then the breakup, part two. There was also a tremendous amount of insomnia, and then for bonus kicks, my day job imploded. Fine, fine, no big deal. Next, I had pre-tendonitis in a thumb (what?), followed by pre-tendonitis in a finger on my opposite hand (spiffy). Then, my cat got sick and needed to be coned, which resulted in my two cats having to be separated for two weeks. (Note: cats body slamming and clawing at doors to get at one another may sound cute, but it’s not helpful for any sort of sleep factor. Or editing factor, for that matter.)

So cut to Friday, when I’m about to launch the “final” edit—and there it was: the final meltdown. I threw myself on the floor and kicked my feet in overwhelmed agony. There were even a few tears.

Luckily for me, Malin James came to my rescue. If you don’t know her, here’s a summary: she’s fucking fabulous. We had a seriously lovely phone call in which she talked me down for a good twenty minutes and reminded me that I was too close and probably too thorough, and I’d be editing again after my beta babes read it, so why not just send the manuscript on now?

SO I DID. I mean, when brilliance speaks, you listen.

After I let the book go, I felt like a mama bird pushing her baby chick out of the nest—maybe a little too early, but okay. I’m sure I looked something like this:

Oh my word. Is it done? Can we really call it done? Wahhhh...<br /> (Image from Gifs for the Masses on Tumblr)

Oh my word. Is it done? Can we really call it done? Wahhhh…
(Image from Gifs for the Masses on Tumblr)

Still, the proverbial weight was off my shoulders and I proceeded to enjoy my weekend. I finished a few things. I relaxed. I slept for two nights in a row. Oh my god. I SLEPT, guys. It was great.

Less than a week later, I’m slightly less insane more calm. I’ve dived into a couple new projects while my novel is in my beta babes’ hands. Hurray! After that, I might even ponder a sequel… 🙂

In the meantime, I have exciting news about a couple other people!

First, Alison Tyler is writing a sequel to Those Girls. Did you read Those Girls? If not, you’d better. Stat!

Also, next week, something awesome is happening. Look:

How cool is that? I can’t wait!

Okay. I think I’m finally calm now. Phew! And on top of that, I finished a book.

Which means…time for me to celebrate and write more!

XX,
Jade

P.S. Special thanks to my beta babes, who not only eagerly took the manuscript off my hands, but gave me further cheerful pep talks. Yeah, you know who you are. 😉

You Always Remember Your First

Posted on April 2, 2014January 7, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

Okay, no holds barred: I have a lot of firsts to share today.

For example, the first time I experienced anything akin to being turned on was watching Pepé Le Pew in Looney Tunes. No, really. I loved the French skunk. I loved the way he chased that pretty cat around and smothered her in affection. I particularly loved the way he held her and talked romantically into her ear, and how she swatted him away. For me, it was the chase—and while I imitated his lines because I liked the accent, I actually imagined some French person chasing me with affection and adoration one day. (Note: I have yet to date anyone French.)

My first kiss happened when I was seven. It was a dare. I’d had a crush on Michael for a whole year. He had this hair that looked like a Ken doll’s—it was short, blond, and wavy, but it somehow stayed close to his head (seven-year-olds don’t wear hairspray, right?). He always played football at lunch, so one day I stormed out and lectured him because he dropped the football. Yes. A seven-year-old, scolding another seven-year-old for dropping a football. Then, as he stared at me dumbfounded, I planted one on him. (Okay…maybe a little too much Pepé Le Pew viewing for me.)

My first “real” sexual experience happened under the murky sky of a light rain. I met a boy three years older than me and he walked me under a tree, where he cradled me in his lap and woke parts of me I didn’t realize existed. That experience was transformative—and lovely, to say the least.

The first time I had sex was with a different boy who also happened to be three years older. We wrote each other poetry and fantasized about living in other centuries together. Our relationship didn’t last long, but we did end up having one nostalgic fling almost four years later—when we drank wine, made love, and embraced while reading poetry to one another, all night long.

These are all some of my favorite firsts, but as open about these as I am, they’re not the firsts I meant to talk about.

You see, I wanted to talk about another first—the first erotica I ever read, because I will always, always remember it.

I read about sexual things at quite a young age—I’d devoured several V.C. Andrews and Christopher Pike novels by nine, for goodness sake—but in my early teens, I stumbled upon something on my mother’s bookcase: Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin.

Now, I confess, I already knew what sex was, but I’d never truly read it. And while the contents of those pages mesmerized and delighted me, and I worship the great Anaïs Nin to this day, it didn’t occur to me that reading those pages could be a source of sexual excitement. I read them analytically, enthralled to discover that one could weave sexual words and scenes so eloquently—and yet I didn’t completely understand that it might “turn me on.” Maybe it did and I just didn’t pick up on it. Who knows. But it did make me want to read more.

So somewhere around there, I signed up for a book club. I could order as many books as I wanted (as long as I could afford them), and I thought this was the coolest thing since peanut butter. Soon, I grew bold. Right under my parents’ noses, I ordered The Best American Erotica 1993 and concealed the book under my bed. Night after night, I read the stories within—and while Anaïs Nin had opened my eyes, these stories rocked me. They made me hot. They made me whisper things to my boyfriends about the naughty things I was reading, and how we should try this, and that, and did you know you could do that?

Now, this is a very old collection, but there are two stories that I’ve never, ever forgotten—even two decades later. One was “Rubenesque” by Magenta Michaels, and the other “Five Dimes” by Anita ‘Melissa’ Mashman. “Rubenesque” showed me body love, exhibitionism, and anonymous sex, while “Five Dimes” showed me lovers having fun and exploring. In fact, I may well have talked a boyfriend into playing “Five Dimes” with me. (You’ll have to read the story to understand what that means, but I assure you, it’s hot.)

So yes, technically, my first was Anaïs Nin. But the first I really remember, the first that got my pulse racing, my cheeks pink, and my body covered in goose bumps—that first happened with The Best American Erotica 1993.

I haven’t stopped reading erotica since.

Now, as for the other firsts—they’re delightful memories, too…which brings me to you.

Do you know what I’d love to hear? YOUR firsts. First kiss, first turn-on, first sex, first sexy read—you pick. Maybe if I’m really lucky, this space will serve as your very first confession! 😉

Can’t wait to hear…

XX,
Jade

P.S. The results of Alison Tyler’s Smut Marathon Round 2 are up—check them out here! (I survived! Hurray!)

“Nice Shoes. Wanna Fuck?”…Or, The Joy of Pick Up Lines

Posted on March 12, 2014September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Seeing as how it’s March, and I planned to edit my book this month, I’ve been doing just that—editing, editing, and then more editing. I’m about a third of the way through, which means my couple has already found their way past initial attraction and have moved well into…other things. 😉 But, in following their journey, I’ve been thinking a lot about what lines bring people together. Our initial attraction is often visual, but after that, there has to be an “in.” One party needs to open his or her mouth and actually say something.

And sometimes, what comes out is a good old-fashioned pick up line.

That idea got me thinking about pick up lines in general—who uses them, how they use them, and if they’re effective. For some reason I’m eternally tickled by pick up lines, especially when they’re used well. I’ve experienced a few (kudos to you, random man on street who burst into song with “One” written by Harry Nilsson—that was pretty clever). And I admit I’ve used some, too (“So…do you dance, or just stand there looking handsome?”—FYI, that shockingly worked). Still, most of my favorites are classics that would never be used in real life:

“If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”

“I’m an organ donor. Need anything?”

“Your clothes would look good on my bedroom floor.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

I have a good friend who sticks to a tamer variety of lines, and apparently had great success with them for years: “Hi. Want to go back to my place and take a shower?” or the less obtrusive version, “Hey, would you like a massage?” (You know who you are, dude.)

It doesn’t really matter what the line is per se; we all know they mean the same thing—nice shoes, wanna fuck?

I guess this is why pick up lines amuse me. There are thousands of variations despite every single party knowing they are covers for the more direct question, which in some cases would have been less offensive/ridiculous/entertaining (choose one) in the first place.

So what about you? Have you ever seriously used a pick up line or heard a good one? Do you love or hate them?

And what are your favorites? Please leave me a note below! I’m hoping someone will throw out a rare gem. Will it be you?

If so…you must be a laser set on stunning! 😉

XX,
Jade

So, the Novel’s Done

Posted on January 29, 2014September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

I bet you’re all still a little dizzy from my post last week with Alison Tyler. Me too!

However, despite the party I’ve been throwing over here, I ended up buckling down and finishing my first erotica book in the last week, too. In truth, I typed “The End” over a week ago, but I didn’t want to call it done, like stick a fork in it D-U-N done, until I handled all those pesky bracketed notes I’d left for myself.

There were 147 of them, after all. And while some of them were amusing, perhaps for only me—[where the hell did her shoes go?] and [what is that one type of jacket with the things and the stuff?]—there were 147 of them. But, as of Sunday, they’re all handled! The book ended up being 87,000 words rather than 90,000, but I was clearly at the end of this darling couple’s journey…at least for this segment.

So what now? Well, I strongly believe in the simmer theory. I gave the file a great big kiss and closed it up with red tape. It is not to be opened for editing until March 1st. This works out surprisingly well, since there are a gazillion short story submission deadlines in March. They’re calling me and a couple other erotica author pals like a siren song, to the point where one of these lovely ladies dubbed them The Calls. (Yes, with capitals. It’s that serious.) Basically, I will be churning out short stories for a month. And when I say “churn,” it’s looking to be about seven stories. Or ten. Depends on how ambitious I’m feeling. I suspect switching from the pace of 87k to 1-5k will require a sharp downshift, but I’m ready. I love shorts!

Speaking of, after tackling all those bracketed notes Sunday, I reopened a short story I’d written over the summer. I have a lot to say about this piece that I’m going to save for a later date, but what I can say is that it was probably one of the most emotional things I’ve ever written. Editing it was almost as difficult as writing it—tears everywhere—and I’m still trying to figure out where it came from. I think sometimes, as writers, we get into the grind of creation, and every once in a while we surprise ourselves. That’s what this piece was for me. For now, I’m filing it away until I can figure out what to do with it. 🙂

So, in summary, yes, the novel is done—but there are plenty of things ahead to keep me occupied until it’s time to crack it open and edit. And that’s the nature of this thing, I suppose. Go, go, go….

Till next time.

XX,
Jade

Progress!

Posted on January 15, 2014September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Nothing like a little progress, right? So today, I thought I’d post a short update on my WIP.

In my last post, I mentioned I was too far along in my first erotica novel to get one of those delightful little counters.

Yeah, so I caved.

Jade’s Book Progress:

They’re just so cute!

I planned for this book to run about 80k, but since I’m a big fan of the editing process (translation: I’m a ninja word assassin), I opted to aim high in order to make nice, strong cuts as necessary when I go back in for editing. I have a few strategies I’ve used on my previous, non-erotica works, but I wanted to share Remittance Girl’s recent post about the editing process. It’s great guidance if you haven’t seen it yet (and if you aren’t following her, you should!).

I also have a tendency to write things in brackets, like [need better word] when I’d rather cruise on through my draft than get hung up on diction. That said, there’s still some “find and replace” work to do for my bounty of brackets once I hit that beautiful 90k mark …but even that experience is strangely fun. This whole process, honestly, is fun. I love writing short stories, but the act of working through an entire full-length is challenging and exhilarating in a totally different way.

Consider me hooked!

Meanwhile, back in the short story realm, I have some exciting news ahead…but you’ll have to wait for it a bit longer.

Know what else you have to wait for? My fabulous and delightful surprise guest next week! But, the good news is that you only have 7 days to wait. That’s right. Seven. Think you can hang?

Maybe I need to make a counter for that, too! 😉

XX,
Jade

Out, In, More

Posted on December 31, 2013September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

It’s New Year’s Eve, and for many of us, a good time to take stock and evaluate the year past. So I’m going to do that, but a little differently—because this year, quite frankly, has been a life-changer for me. Hands down, flat-out, smack me on the ass and plant a big juicy kiss on my lips kind of Hello? Is this really happening? year, and I’ve loved every damn minute of it.

So here’s the deal: about ten months ago, I was in the middle of a third-of-my-life crisis (because, let’s be real, 99 years is plenty).

I was 33 years old, and I’d been writing since I was 7. No, really, 7—I’d written this mini piece about a pumpkin for Halloween that got into the paper thanks to my parents encouraging precocious little me—and as much fun as I was having, and as much as I knew it’s what I wanted to do, something still hadn’t clicked. I dabbled in all sorts of things: the first (seriously bad) fictional biography “novel” I wrote at 11, the second (not as bad) YA novel I wrote at 13, and a whole lot of “wow that boyfriend (and that one, and that one, and that one) ran over my heart so I’m going to go super dark” poetry through most of high school. Next was an excursion into sci-fi and fantasy, because I thought a romantic fantasy was for me. So I wrote another book (a full-length one, this time). And on the side, I penned some “really dirty stuff” that I shared with a couple friends, but it never saw much of the light of day. It was me scribbling about how cool I thought sex was, honestly, with a couple of smartassed characters who did things the way I wanted to try and/or repeat them (shoot, sorry mom, why do you subscribe to my blog, again?). I read Anaïs Nin, see, and though I thought she was a genius, that could never happen in the writing I put out there. Never. My smut was for me and maybe some boyfriends about to get lucky. (Mom, just unsubscribe now. But don’t forget I stole Nin off your shelf. And I love you.)

Where was I going with this? Oh yes. Back to the onslaught of my third-of-a-life-crisis. So, I’d shelved all the smutty stuff to focus on spec fic, eventually ending up at a fantasy writing conference. I’d brought a little story about a tormented stripper werewolf who ends up in the middle of an orgy, and my critique partners kept giving me the funniest expressions. I’d written a dark speculative fiction piece, dammit, what was with all the funny looks? And then my group mentor smiled all giddy-like and said, “You wrote a stripper werewolf story. Stripper werewolf. With an orgy. You like to titillate with your writing. It’s fun!”

Huh. Not what I expected.

For a couple months, I toyed around with this concept. I wrote two intentionally erotic stories, adding to my sad collection of three (four? I can’t remember). Then I refocused on my real deal: spec fic. I tried to start another novel. It was about a succubus assassin and was supposed to be seriously dark, but by page 3, she was having sex. I didn’t realize it until I was on page 10 and she’d gotten down and dirty, and then I had a meltdown. I called my mentor and we had a frank talk.

He asked me why I didn’t just write erotica already. The same night, my best friend asked me the question again.

I had a lot of dumb reasons in my head for why that wouldn’t work for me. Some of them were nonsensical misunderstandings I’d somehow formed about myself, and others were possibly valid. I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter—in February of 2013, I made a deal with myself.

“I’ve liked writing it before. Okay. Why not? I’m going to try this erotica thing. I’m going to see how it feels.”

The next day, I was typing away at the keyboard like a fiend.

So in March, I made another deal.

“I’m going to send out some of these stories and see what happens.”

And so I did that, and dove back into writing. I’d already submitted fantasy/sci-fi/contemporary/mainstream/yes-even-that-novel-I-wrote-when-I-was-11 pieces out into the world, so I knew the deal: you send and you put your nose back to the grindstone. Write, write, write. That’s what it’s all about. And in reality, you don’t write for other people, you write because you love it. Because you know it’s the world to you, and you feel it as part of you, in your gut, even if no one else is paying attention.

That’s why the next month totally threw me. First, Rachel Kramer Bussel blew my mind by wanting a piece I’d submitted for a later call in an earlier book—The Big Book of Orgasms. I got the email late at night after coming home from a flight delayed by 12 hours and getting chumped by a prospective lover. (Seriously.) Then I ran around my house squealing and waking up my neighbors because, you know, that’s what you do when Rachel Kramer Bussel tells you she likes your story.

Next, there was the crazy rush I was getting from writing all this erotica. It was like my fingers were moving again. My brain was on fire. I wasn’t slamming my head on the keyboard trying to figure out why my fantasy/sci-fi/fictional-biography/Halloween-pumpkin story wasn’t clicking for me. June was right around the corner, and my little deals with myself had not only led to writing twenty-something short stories, but I was happy. I was alive. I’d found real love and true passion.

I was an erotica writer, goddammit, and I couldn’t be more excited.

So for me, 2013 is one blazing year of deliciously rich feeling, and it’s opened up my world. I’ve met some amazing new writer pals. I’ve read more of some of my favorite erotica artists—true damn literary artists—and then I’ve found a bunch more. I’ve started working with people who I admire so much I have to remind myself that when we meet, I’m not allowed to kiss their feet and/or drool. I mean, it’s only been ten months, but I feel like I’m living the dream—the most important dream there is, for anyone: finding what you want to do, what you love to do, and then…actually…doing…it.

I believe they call this self-actualizing.

I call it fucking rad.

Where will all of this lead? I have no idea. It’s about the journey, right? Mine involves a keyboard, a screen, a comfy desk chair, and an abundantly smutty imagination. We’re just going to kick it and enjoy the ride, because it feels good. It feels right.

So that’s my 2013 wrap-up, but it’s not really a closure at all—it’s more of a big open field of running free, for many years to come.

I’m going to go pour 2013 a drink now, because it was the year I found myself. And I hope that tonight, or tomorrow, or any day or year you face in the future, you have the opportunity to find as much joy as I have.

Until then, keep reading, keep writing, and love every sexy-ass minute of it.

XX,
Jade

Gratitude

Posted on November 26, 2013September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

It’s the week of Thanksgiving here in the States—a time of celebration, good food, and hopefully, a moment to reflect on all the things we’re grateful for in our lives. I’ve always loved hearing about the gatherings where each person shares something he or she is grateful for, so I hope each of you has an abundance of things to list this Thursday.

In the spirit of giving thanks, I’d like to take a minute to share my gratitude for a lot of different people I’ve had the pleasure of connecting with over the last few months. I have so much to be grateful for right now, and all of it is due to some extremely wonderful people.

First, I’m grateful that Rachel Kramer Bussel was willing to take a chance on “The Flogger” and add it to her beautiful collection, The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories. I cannot be more thrilled that my first published piece is part of this anthology! I have more gratitude for a few other editors, such as Violet Blue for the honor of including me in Best Women’s Erotica 2014, and Pam van Hylckama Vlieg at Foreword for including me in Holiday Spice. And of course, there’s Alison Tyler, too, who keeps making me do happy dances. 🙂

I’d like to extend this gratitude to Cleis Press for publishing TBBOO, as well as for their ongoing efforts to provide quality erotica in some of the most lovely bound books I’ve seen in the genre. TBBOO and BWE 2014 are just two of many great books this house has released into the world, and I’m delighted to be part of their anthologies.

I’m also thankful for being able to connect with some fabulous writer pals. Some of you are pen pals, some of you are mentor friends, and all of you are inspiring me in one way or another. I’m incredibly glad we are connected!

I am grateful for family and friends too, many of whom have been encouraging me for years (especially you, S.M., who reminded me whenever I flitted off to something else over the years that writing was my true love and I should get back to it). A special thanks to M.N. and K.S. for nudging me (okay, tenderly shoving me when I kept dipping my toes) into erotica, since you both recognized it was what I really loved to write.

I’m also grateful for all the people who are starting to find my work, and who are so kindly sharing their thoughts on it with me. I am truly honored to get to share my writing publicly now, and hope that people continue to enjoy reading it (or at least read it!). 🙂

I wouldn’t be so passionate about erotica if I hadn’t read stories by some tremendous authors, so I’m grateful for finding the work of Shanna Germain, Alison Tyler, Isabelle Gray, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Anaïs Nin, among others, some of whom you can find on my Blogroll. There are so many talented writers out there inspiring me right now, and I hope to continue learning a little something from all of them as I continue to write.

I could probably keep going on forever about how grateful I am, but I won’t. I do, however, hope that you have something that makes you feel as warm and fuzzy as all these special people have made me.

Finally, I wanted to share a completely unrelated little ditty with you—Alison Tyler, otherwise known as the Trollop with a Laptop, has been collecting pictures of bookshelf porn. She’s a complete voyeur and has a fetish for checking out everyone’s bookshelves, so she’s been running an ongoing series if you’d like to check it out (and you should). You can see my book preferences right here, and if you click on through her site, you’ll be able to see the sexy book arrangements of some other erotica authors and erotic-related folk, such as A.M. Hartnett, Emerald, Graydancer, and Charlie Powell. There are more to come, so be sure to take a peek!

In the meantime, I hope everyone has a wonderful and happy Thanksgiving. Be sure to curl up with your favorite spicy read, something I’m eternally grateful to get to do!

XX,
Jade

That One Costume…

Posted on October 28, 2013September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

It’s Halloween week—time for everyone to get excited about sugar, parties, and costumes! I’ve always enjoyed Halloween, half because I love the candy and the other half because I enjoy a good costume. In a former life I loved to make my own; sometimes they were silly, sometimes they were cute, and other times, they were incredibly over the top. While I do enjoy having a closet full of costumes, I’m not so much into the dressing up part these days. The good news is that I still enjoy checking out the fantastic costumes other people wear, especially when they’re homemade or unusual.

Speaking of unusual—how about a Santa costume at Halloween?

[Screeching record sound here.]

Um, wait. What, Jade?

Well, as you may know, Foreword Literary is set to release Holiday Spice early next month. My story, “Office Santa,” is included in the anthology—and it happens to be inspired by a photo I once saw of a woman dressed up as Mrs. Claus for Halloween! The costume was a sassy little number…and that’s how “Office Santa” ended up narrated by a gal named Kristi, an adored member of her office team who really loves a man in a Santa suit.

So, in the spirit of Halloween, sexy costumes, and all things Christmas cheer, here’s a sneak peek at “Office Santa”:

Me and Office Santa—we go way back.

See, after seven years of organizing our annual holiday party, I’ve learned I have a real affinity for a gentleman in a Santa costume—which is saying a lot, since I love a man in a suit and tie, and the male partners around here look so delicious in their business wear it’s a miracle we don’t have a major sexual harassment problem. But Christ, put one of them in a fuzzy red suit with a squishy belly, a big black belt, matching boots, and that goddamn aphrodisiac of a hat, and I lose all semblance of self-control.

Part of the appeal is the man who dons the suit, of course. Last year, for example, it was David. He’s one of the busiest partners, so watching him slow down to have a glass of wine with the rest of us—appreciating the season and wearing that fantastic red costume—actually made him approachable. I mean, he was always that way with me, but no one ever saw that. Ours was an affair composed of exactly three entanglements: the first on the break room table after the rest of the company had gone home, the second when I picked him up from the airport after a conference since the driver I’d arranged had neglected to show, and the third the time I took him home from the holiday party. He’d spent the night tumbling around my apartment—he was a little awkward with the suit dangling around his thighs because I wouldn’t let him take it off. In return, I kept the sexy Mrs. Claus dress on and let him rip a hole in the crotch of my fishnets so he could get his hands on me. There’s something to be said for a man wearing a Santa hat while under your skirt, shoving his tongue way up inside until you come to visions of sugarplums and all that, so it was a win-win for us both…

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Wonder who will wear the suit this year? 😉 I hope you enjoyed the excerpt, and stay tuned for news on the official release date and buy links!

In the meantime—and just because it’s impossible to stop admiring this cover model—here’s another look at the cover of Holiday Spice: